


On the House

by petersnotkingyet



Series: Love is Blind (and so is Kenny) [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Blind Character, Blind!Kent, Developing Friendships, Disabled Character, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Past Kent/Jack, Stimming, Unreliable Narrator, established relationships - Freeform, only slightly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: It took time for Bitty and Kent to get along.





	On the House

**Author's Note:**

> Kyra's part 2!

Initially, the name ‘Kent Parson’ was more of a concept than a man to Bitty.  Kent came by the Haus once, slipping into the party in a pair of purple sunglasses and getting Lardo to help him track down Jack.  From what Eric had overheard of their conversation, it hadn’t been a pleasant reunion.  Jack has spoken about him some when he and Bitty first got together.  Kent and Jack met playing hockey in their teens, and Kent became Jack’s first boyfriend.

Bitty didn’t hate him or anything.  It was just a quiet resentment.  Kent had been there through the worst parts of Jack’s anxiety, and he hadn’t done anything to help.  It wasn’t fair to blame Jack’s overdose on someone, but Bitty couldn’t keep from aligning the two in his mind.

More than a year after the first time Bitty saw him, Kent Parson reappeared.  Jack had come out to the team, most of whom had taken it in stride.  He let them get used to it for a little while before bringing up that he was planning to bring his boyfriend to the family skate.  No one on the team said anything negative, which was what they’d expected.  What they hadn’t expected was for Tater to enthusiastically say that he was bringing his own boyfriend.

While the news that he wouldn’t be the only male significant other there had taken some pressure off, Bitty still panicked.  Although Tater’s boyfriend made infrequent appearances with the team, he was already established with them.  Bitty was the new guy.

“Hey, B!” Tater greeted.  “Is still pie left for Kenny?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bitty said.  He straightened and tried to look like he hadn’t just been freaking out over said pie.  “Did he just get here?”

“Yes,” Tater said. “Swoops dropped him off on way home from big meeting.”

“Swoops is a coworker?” Bitty asked as Tater loaded a plate.  Tater nodded.

“Real name is Jeff, but Kenny calls Swoops,” he said.  “Come meet Kenny.”

Tater’s boyfriend had his back to them.  He was skating with one hand on Poots’s elbow like he needed to stabilize himself, but he moved too confidently to be unsure on the ice.  Tater made Guy swear under pain of death to hold onto and not eat the pie before he and Bitty changed back into their skates and headed across the ice.

When Kent turned around, the purple sunglasses were the first thing Bitty noticed.  They were the frameless wrap-around kind that looked almost like a visor, solid purple.  Not many people could pull them off, but Kent Parson certainly did.  When Alexei started talking, Kent let go of Poots and leaned into Alexei affectionately.  There was no mistaking that this was the Kenny Alexei was dating.

“Solnishko, this is Zimmboni’s boyfriend, B,” Alexei said. 

“Bitty,” Eric said.  “Well, Eric Bittle really, but most people call me Bitty.”

“Kent Parson,” Kent said, holding his hand out a few degrees too far to the left.  Alexei subtly adjusted him, and Eric shook his hand.

“We’ve met,” he said coolly.  There was no look of recognition on Kent’s face, so he added, “You came to that party at Samwell.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kent said, cringing.  “Not my best moment.”

“Come eat pie, Kenny,” Alexei said.  “B made it.  Very good, I saved you last piece.”

“I’m going to go find Jack,” Eric said.  “Nice seeing you again, Kent.”

“You too,” Kent said.  He grabbed Alexei by the elbow like he had been holding Poots and the two made their way toward where Guy was waiting with Kent’s pie. 

Jack was sitting on the wall with Thirdy and Marty, but he was easily convinced to skate another lap.  His cheeks were happily flushed, and he seemed to relish in holding Bitty’s hand while they skated.  Bitty was almost tempted not to bring Kent up.

“So did you meet Tater’s boyfriend?” Bitty said when the temptation was too great.

“Yeah,” Jack said.  He didn’t sound bothered.  “What are the odds of that, eh?”

“Yeah,” Bitty agreed.  “What’s with him and those sunglasses?  I’m like 90% sure he had those on at the kegster.”

“He always wears them.  He’s got a little light perception, but it can be kind of painful,” Jack said.  “I think he’s a little self-conscious too.”

“About what?”

“Bits, Kent’s blind,” Jack said, quirking an eyebrow.  “Did I never tell you that?”

“ _No,”_ Bitty said.  “Good Lord, I’ve got to go back over everything I said in that conversation and make sure I didn’t make an ass out of myself.”

“I’m sure you’re fine,” Jack said.

“I thought you said that you and Kent met playing hockey.”

“We did,” Jack said.  “Kent played for the Nightshade growing up.  It’s a blind team, but they compete with everybody else.”

“I don’t know what I said, but I’m sure it was something insensitive,” Eric said.  Jack laughed.

“Honey, even if you did, Kent’s got thick skin,” he said.  “Relax.”

-

“This is really good pie,” Kent said.  Alexei hummed in agreement and tried to sneak a bite of Kent’s plate.  Kent batted his hand away, and Alexei laughed.

“How are you always knowing when I do that?” he asked.

“Because you always do it,” Kent said.  Alexei laughed again, but the sound was masked by oohs and aahs on the ice.  “What happened?” Kent asked, scraping the last of the filling off his plate.

“B is showing off,” Alexei said.  “Figure skate.”

“He’s a figure skater?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought he was a hockey player,” Kent said.

“Both,” Alexei said.  They were sitting close enough together for Kent to feel his arm move, so he shrugged.

“Will you throw this away for me?” Kent said, nodding down at his paper plate and plastic fork.

“Sure, solnishko,” Alexei said.  When he returned, Kent was tearing his napkin to shreds.

“Is he still doing it?” Kent asked.  “Bittle, I mean.”

“Yes,” Alexei said.  “I’m not knowing a lot about figure skating, but he’s seeming good at it.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Spinning fast on one skate right now,” Alexei said.  He wondered if someone with a better grasp on English would be able to describe it more clearly.  Eric’s smooth transitions and rapid movements were hard to put into words.  “Other foot is high.  Earlier, B was trying to teach Jack lifts.”

“Is he as good as your mom?” Kent asked.  Alexei scoffed.

“No one is,” he stated.  “Mama is best.”

-

“Shit!” Kent cursed, grabbing his hand.  Eric barely managed to move out of the way as the older man hurried to the sink.  Kent kept cursing as he held his hand under the water.

“What happened?” Eric asked.

“I fucking burned myself,” Kent snapped.  Eric reeled back, but Kent was oblivious.  He was still gripping his wrist, rocking one knee into the cabinet, when Alexei appeared in the doorway.

“Kenny?” he asked, touching Kent’s shoulder lightly.  “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kent said.  He still sounded harsh, so Eric stayed back.  “I didn’t put anything hot on the counter.  I don’t know what happened.”

“Oh,” Eric mumbled, cheeks flaming.  “I took the peas off the stove.  They looked like they were about to boil over.”

“They weren’t going to,” Kent said.  “I can cook.  I was going to take them off when I grabbed the fucking pot instead of a pot holder.”

“B was not meaning to,” Alexei said softly before Eric had the chance to apologize.  He placed a paper towel in Kent’s good hand and said, “You’re knowing that.  Dry hand.  I’m get first aid.”

Kent dried his hand off carefully, dropped the paper towel into the garbage, and sagged down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.  Kit Purrson wandered into the room and rubbed at Kent’s ankles.  Kent leaned down to pet her absentmindedly, and Eric came back into the room just enough to keep an eye on the stove.

“I can cook,” Kent said again.

“I know,” Eric said quietly.  Kent sounded like he needed to say something, and Eric was going to let him say it.

“I just have to know where everything is,” Kent said.  “It’s different for me than it is for you.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed.

“I can’t just look at things and know when it’s done,” Kent said insistently.  “It’s all about timers and recipes and knowing everything that’s happening.  You have to cut the chicken the same size every time or it won’t cook in the same amount of time.  You have to put everything exactly where it goes or you might as well not even have it.  Before I got my own place, my sister or Swoops or somebody would sit with me and watch food cook so I could write down exactly how long it took.”

“That’s smart,” Eric said.

“It’s just different for me,” Kent said.  He still sounded frustrated, but he went quiet when he heard Alexei returning.

“Bittle, I’m thinking Jack is here,” Alexei said as he squatted next to Kent with antibiotic cream and a bandage.  “Buzz in please?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bitty said.  When he returned from the other room with Jack, Kent’s hand was bandaged and he was taking the food out of the oven while Alexei set the table.

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting,” Jack said.

“Your loss, Zimmermann,” Kent said.  He sounded like himself again, but Bitty couldn’t let go of the way he’d spoken.  Kent held up his bandaged hand and said, “You missed the show.”

“Right,” Jack said reluctantly, like he didn’t want to know.  “Well, let’s eat.  I’m starving.”

-

“Here’s your sunglasses,” Kent said.  His sunglasses had been broken at the game two days prior, but an identical pair had already replaced them.  He was wearing the same snapback from the kegster backwards, and blond curls popped out around the edges.  He wasn’t as polished as usual, but Kent looked as good as anyone did this early in the morning.  He certainly looked better than Eric, who hadn’t expected Kent Parson to arrive in the bakery before any of his morning regulars.

“Oh, thanks,” Eric said, taking the sunglasses and setting them behind the register.  “Can I get you anything?  Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet,” Kent said.  “I usually just grab a bagel at work.”

“That’s no way to live, Kent Parson,” Eric stated factually.  Kent laughed.

“What do you have?”

“The breakfast crowd hasn’t hit yet, so I’ve got muffins—chocolate chip and blueberry—coffee cake, cinnamon rolls, Danishes, and croissants,” Eric said.

“A cinnamon roll sounds good,” Kent said.

“And a coffee?”

Kent shook his head.  “The whole being blind thing messes with my sleep cycles, so I’m supposed to avoid stuff like caffeine that’ll fuck it up even more,” he said.

“A smoothie?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“Coming right up,” Eric said with a smile.  “Do you want to sit at the counter?”

“Uh, sure,” Kent said apprehensively.  “I’m going to need you to give me a little direction though.  I’ve never been here before.”

“Turn to your three o’clock, walk five feet, and you’ll be at the first stool,” Eric said.  “No one else is here, just so you know.  We’ve got about twenty minutes before my regulars start rolling in.”

“I’ll be out of your hair by then,” Kent promised.

“Here’s your cinnamon roll and a fork,” Eric said, setting the plate down on the counter, “and here’s your smoothie.”

“Thanks,” Kent said.

They lapsed into silence while Kent ate and Eric went through his morning routine.  Kent was quieter on his own than he was in a group.  Eric didn’t know what to say, so he busied himself to keep from having to speak.

“I never know what to say to you,” Kent stated, like he’d read his mind.  “Not in a bad way or anything.  Everything you do is just so visual.  The vlog, the figure skating, the fancy pies.  You seem alright, but all that stuff is totally lost on me.”

“You seem alright too,” Eric said.  Kent snorted.

“We both know you don’t really think that, Bits,” he said.

“I-”

“It’s okay,” Kent said.  “I know you and Jack have talked about what happened.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Eric said.

“But I could have done better,” Kent said.  There was a long pause.  Kent finished his cinnamon roll, and Eric was afraid he would leave without waiting for a response.

“It scares me so much that I could have lost him before I ever met him,” Eric blurted.  “And I’m not good at dealing with that, so I trick myself into thinking what happened was your fault.  I know it’s not, but-”

“But it’s hard,” Kent said, nodding.  Eric started to nod too but stopped himself and agreed aloud.  “And I made it worse for myself at that party at Samwell.”

“You were being a dick,” Eric said.

“That’s fair,” Kent agreed.  “I wanna blame it on the fact that I was changing meds that week, but it could have been all me.  I'm not really sure.”

“Changing meds?”

Kent nodded.  “I have seizures.  It’s part of the whole ‘congenital rubella syndrome’ thing.”

“What do you do?” Eric said.  “My mama would kill me if she knew I’d known you for months and never asked about your job.”

“I’m an urban planner,” Kent said.  “Land use planning, conservation, that kind of stuff.”

The bell on the door chimed.  Bitty’s first regular of the day accepted and paid for his usual breakfast with a grateful smile without ever getting off the phone.  When Bitty returned to Kent, his smoothie was gone.

“Look at us having a conversation for a whole twenty minutes,” Kent said pleasantly.

“You were eating for a good chunk of that,” Eric pointed out.

“You’ve got me there.”

“So we can totally do this,” Eric said optimistically.

“This?”

“Have conversations,” Eric said.  “Spend time together when our best friend/coworker husbands are playing.  Not be filled with anxiety at the prospect of being alone in a room together.”

“That sounds doable,” Kent agreed.  He touched his watch and moved to stand up.  “I’ve got to get to work.  How much do I owe you for breakfast?”

“On the house,” Eric said.  Kent opened his mouth to protest, so he added, “In exchange for me burning the shit out of you when you had me and Jack over for dinner.”

“Alright,” Kent agreed.  “Later, Bittle.”

“Bye, Kent.”

-

“How the fuck do you know if it’s done?”

“Eat some,” Eric said, shrugging.  “Or scrape your fork across the lattice and make sure there are no soggy spots.”

“’Eat some,’” Kent huffed.  “Like I’m going to leave the oven on while I wait for it to cool, cut a slice, and then decide if it needs to go back in.  You’re killing the planet, Bittle.”

“I run a bakery,” Bitty said.  “You’re the one who’s supposed to be saving Earth with your land management strategies and whatnot.”

“This is good, right?” Jack whispered to Alexei from where they were watching in the doorway.  “They’re chirping each other.  That’s a good sign.”

“Kenny is good cook but never baker,” Alexei responded anxiously, craning his neck for a view of the pie.  “I’m not being sure of this.”

“You guys really aren’t as quiet as you think you are,” Kent said without turning.

“You’re misunderstand,” Alexei said, swooping in to plant a kiss at Kent’s temple.  “I’m not being sure if is fair for you to be good cook and good baker.”

“Sure, big guy,” Kent said.  “I think this is done.  Somebody come taste-test.”

“Who is ‘somebody?’  Alexei is right here to taste,” Alexei said.

“Yeah, right here instead of keeping an eye on the grill like you said you were,” Kent said.  Alexei’s eyes widened comically, and he hurried Jack back to the backyard.

“They’re helpless,” Bitty sighed affectionately. 

“Absolutely,” Kent agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> At the family skate, Kent holds onto Poots and Alexei. He has experience playing hockey and can skate independently, but since there were kids around he was using them to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone.  
> Also, just because I feel like people are gonna be bitter, I wanna say I don't hate Bitty or Kent. They do have conflic though, and that's what this fic was about


End file.
